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It's one of those mornings (again), and they are having breakfast in silence (yes, again). It’s been this way for some time, Mu Qing notices, the charm of a newly spurt relationship seems to have been replaced with a colorless routine. He wonders if Feng Xin feels the same, he stares at him in silence and there’s a smile on his face while he reads the news and sips from his coffee mug.
They fought a few minutes earlier. He doesn’t remember specifically how it started and how it ended, but something about who was the one who left the shampoo bottle empty. Mu Qing knows it wasn’t him, he wanted to know if Feng Xin would admit it. But he denied having theorised about chemicals evaporating, Mu Qing called him stupid, and the bickering soon became yelling at each other for fifteen minutes straight. And that stupid, awful phrase that Feng Xin’s repeated for the last two years of fighting: Here we go again, with that awful, hateful smile. It makes his skin crawl, it makes him want to punch something. Because he'd love it if there wasn't an ‘again’. He'd love it if their relationship was just as simple as that of Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, they just seem to click so easily.
But It’s who we are, Mu Qing repeats to himself to calm down, we’ve always been this way. It’s also something that Feng Xin tells him all the time. It’s what he tells other people when they start fighting in public. He laughs it off, until the sound of his laugh becomes noise to his ears (he fucking humilliates them by doing that, how does he not realise?).
“Honey, can you pass me the sugar, please?”, Feng Xin says.
Mu Qing stares. It hurts that Feng Xin hasn’t looked at him in the eyes ever since their previous fight. It seems like he only acknowledges his presence now that he needs him, and now feels entitled enough to call him honey? To talk to him with that sweet tone that sounds nothing like the one that yells and insults him?
“Hm?”, he insists. This time, he does take his eyes off of his phone and looks at him.
His eyes are still blurry from the night before. Feng Xin sleeps eight hours straight on the weekends — something Mu Qing has always envied. He wakes up every half an hour, and takes another half an hour to fall back asleep. It’s probably the reason why Mu Qing wakes up in a bad mood, and Feng Xin could run a hundred miles every morning if he wanted to. Well, he kind of does, his passion for running is... astonishing.
His eyes might be blurry, but they’re still expressive. They’re shiny eyes — like that one brightest set of stars that someone could still manage to see in the cloudiest night sky. They’re loving eyes, like a pair of arms that are opening up for a hug.
“Aren’t you tired?”, Mu Qing says.
Feng Xin giggles and rubs his eyes. “I had a good night sleep, I’m just a bit sick.”
It’s true. These past few days he caught a cold, which isn't that good in someone with asthma like him. But he has managed to make it an excuse for every single simple thing he had to do and didn’t.
(He can’t get mad at him for that reason, because of course Mu Qing does it too)
“It’s not what I mean.”, Mu Qing continues. “Aren’t you tired of… fighting? Of this routine?”
“C’mon, Mu Qing. You know it’s who we are. We’ve always been this way.”
That phrase echoes in his mind, worsening the headache that could either be the result of the fighting, or having caught the cold as well. He lets his head fall between his hands and rubs his temples with his thumbs.
“We’ve been together for over two years, wouldn’t you think we should have managed to solve that already?”, he says. “It’s not what I pictured for us.”
“I- I’m sorry.”, Feng Xin mutters.
An apology was the only thing Mu Qing wasn't expecting, because he didn’t want one. He wasn’t aiming for Feng Xin to feel guilty, because it’s way more than a simple fight. Or a simple mistake. Or leaving the fucking shampoo bottle empty. It’s something Mu Qing has been dissecting for some time now, probably some months:
They’re not on the same wavelength anymore.
“I might have washed my hair and didn’t realise the bottle was empty. I promise next time I—”
He talks, he promises things, he’s sweet and so oblivious of the emptiness inside Mu Qing’s chest — that it makes Mu Qing feel the worst person in the world for addressing what it might seem an issue for him, and clearly isn’t for Feng Xin.
“I don’t care about a stupid shampoo, Feng Xin.”, he stops him. “We need to talk.”
Feng Xin gulps and sits straight. For the first time he seems to understand what’s going on. With pain in his eyes, he lightly moves his head from side to side. A shy plea, a cry for mercy.
He hates to hate him sometimes. He hates to hate him, because he loves him with his entire soul.
“Are you breaking up with me?”, Feng Xin asks. His voice is too soft, like he's scared of asking that question.
Mu Qing doesn’t respond. He questions instead: “Did you picture this for us? What did you want us to be?”
Feng Xin sighs, defeated. He fidgets nervously, and looks down at his feet. He looks almost as embarrassed as that one time he had confessed he loved him.
It was right in the same spot, they were sharing a bottle of beer, watching a really bad TV show from the screen of one of their phones. Mu Qing had laughed really loud at one scene, probably the first time he had showed him the true sound of it. Feng Xin couldn’t stop staring at him, and also in the midst of a laugh he exclaimed: Oh my God, I love you. When he realised what he had said, he suddenly stopped. He hung his head low, ashamed, and gave themselves a few seconds of pure, unpolluted silence.
(When did the magic of silence transform into the thing he dreaded the most?)
I love when you do that. I love you., he said. He wasn’t staring when he voiced out his feelings, but it didn’t bother Mu Qing at all.
(When did wandering gazes stop being a sign of nervousness, and become a sign of indifference?)
“I wanted us to be happy. Aren’t you happy, Mu Qing?”, Feng Xin finally blurts out.
He takes some moments to think about it. Happiness isn’t something as easy to describe as the definition of it that someone could read in a dictionary. It’s a comprehensive term, that breaks through personal and mutual arrangements, desires, expectatives and hopes. Moments of sadness, too. How do they manage to overcome them, how do they manage to learn from them and become better people?
“I feel empty.”, he chooses to say. It feels easier to describe it that way. “Are you happy?”
“I do. I feel happy.”, Feng Xin frowns. “What could I do to make you feel better?”
Mu Qing smiles. This is the Feng Xin that he fell in love with, the one that even in the worst adversities still managed to see a positive outcome. Although Feng Xin didn’t show him that side of him for many years, Mu Qing had witnessed it all his life.
“I don’t actually know, I’m so sorry.”, he notices how uncomfortable this whole situation is and now starts to regret it. But he cannot take back the stones he’s thrown, and with the worst pain thrusting his chest he sentences: “Maybe we need some time away from each other.”
Feng Xin opens his mouth, probably to decline. He chooses not to say anything, and actually encourages Mu Qing to elaborate on his proposal. He grabs his hand, and Mu Qing feels comfortable like that. It’s fine. It will be fine. And that’s important.
“I haven’t felt like me in some months.”, Mu Qing continues, “I- I want to love you again.”
“You don’t love me?”
Feng Xin’s voice wavers, and Mu Qing notices he might have worded it wrongly. He fixes it:
“I do. But sometimes the sole thought of you makes me want to hate you.”, he says. Which is true, although it hurts.
“What did I do wrong?”
“I don’t know.”, he whispers. “Maybe it's not something, maybe it's not what you did.”
Silence again. It all feels cold all of a sudden. The pit inside his stomach impedes him from eating the cookies that Feng Xin spent the previous afternoon on cooking. He wants this moment to be over, to stand up and leave the apartment they’ve shared for the last year. Say good-bye to the neighborhood cat that chooses their balcony to sleep in. Search somewhere else where he can stay. Oh damn, he had not thought of any of that before.
Feng Xin suddenly chuckles. Mu Qing knows him too well to not know that he’s holding back his tears.
“I thought we would break up in the middle of some noisy fight. I’m sorry I don’t know what to do.”
“No, honey, it’s fine.”, this time it’s Mu Qing who grabs Feng Xin’s hand. “We’ve walked so much together, that we lost each other. I’m sure time will join us again some day.”
Feng Xin nods lightly, like he’s not really sure about that promise. But Mu Qing cannot let the 25 years they’ve known each other be defeated by some stupid disarray in their destinies.
—
The very next time they see each other after their break-up, it’s out of a misfortune. Mu Qing has just finished his work shift and is resting on a column, smoking a cigarette (a habit he had stopped once he and Feng Xin started living together because it made his boyfriend sick, a habit he re-took after he and Feng Xin went on separate ways in an attempt to find his old self again, a habit he would love to quit if he could) — when a big dog comes running and decides to pee right next to him. When he notices that warm and wet sensation starting to dampen his new pair of shoes, he tosses the cig and looks around, trying to find its owner.
“Feifei!”, he could recognise that voice anywhere, anytime.
It’s been 256 days trying his best with zero contact. His therapist recommended it, even though he had expressed his doubts about it because they share friend groups, they share work fields, and most importantly, they share a history together.
But the counter goes down to zero the moment the dog is now jumping on him, expecting to play and dirtying his white shirt with its muddy paws. Because as soon as the dog does that, it’s Feng Xin, its owner, who runs closer screaming its name. And he realises just how much he has missed that man, how much he has lied whenever he swore he left his feelings behind.
He wants to run away, but the dog still has its paws on his forearms and is now trying to lick his face. Mu Qing is really struggling to make it sit down, because not only has it ruined his work uniform, but it’s also ruining his plan of making zero contact!
“This stupid dog!”, he roars, frustrated, and pushes it away.
“You fucking asshole, she’s a baby!”, Feng Xin yells, this time closer.
Mu Qing doesn’t want to look, so he starts running away. Of course, the dog follows him, and Mu Qing damns the day he promised Feng Xin that their paths would meet again someday.
“Come back! She’s adopted and still hasn’t learned basic manners. You’re a grown ass man, why would you push her like that?! She’s just trying to play!”
Mu Qing keeps his mouth shut, even though he wants to say some not-really-nice little things to him.
“Hey!”, Feng Xin runs faster. His breathing sounds like he’s been running for some miles — because that’s how his breathing sounded when they would randomly pack their things and go crosscountrying in the middle of nowhere.
It stings, the way he knows that man so much to the point in which nothing he does can be undecipherable. He wonders if Feng Xin has realised he's running behind him by now. If he's just playing fool, or wishing deep inside that this is not the way they've come across each other again.
But, damn, Feng Xin might be training hard. He's right beside him in a few seconds. It's not surprising, Feng Xin has always liked running. He'd wake up earlier than he should have to go for a run — nothing stopped him, no matter the weather, his health, or even if he had a sore muscle.
(Actually, there was one thing that stopped him. But admitting to be aware of Feng Xin selflessly staying home whenever he thought Mu Qing felt under the weather, would drive him to question his past decisions)
“You?!”, Feng Xin exclaims, and Mu Qing finally slows down his pace until he stops. “I knew dogs weren't your favorite thing in the world, but a coward? That's new.”
First, Mu Qing needs to breathe. He crouches and reluctantly takes the bottle of water that Feng Xin is placing in front of his eyes. It's a matter of fact: he has not run ever since he and Feng Xin broke up. And yes, like Feng Xin always told him, it's a habit. And he's gotten out of it.
“You good?”, he asks, this time crouching next to him and placing a comforting hand on his back. That stupid dog, Feifei, also sits down next to them. She tilts her head from side to side in confusion, like she doesn't understand the mess she's made. “You were a better runner.”
Mu Qing presses his eyelids tightly. And prays in the name of whatever is over them for it to give him strength and patience. “Shut the fuck up.”
But Feng Xin is not mad, he notices. He's trying to be funny, to make the situation less uncomfortable than it already is. And it makes Mu Qing feel a little bit better.
All this time, although he tried his best not to think about it, he wondered how Feng Xin might have been feeling. He always thought Feng Xin would be the one to get tired of them and break up the relationship. Mu Qing had not met a single one of his significant others that lasted for more than two months for him. In Feng Xin’s words ’he’d get bored of the routine’, and always chose to keep them as friends — funny how the tables turn. So he thought, more than once, if he felt his absence. In which ways he felt his absence. Was it the routines, the smell of freshly made breakfast in the morning, or his perfume lingering on his pillow? Was it the fights, or the obsession that Mu Qing had with keeping everything clean and organized?
He felt a void in many other small aspects of life. He sometimes felt the urge of texting him let me know when you're home every time the clock struck 8pm and Feng Xin should have been returning from work. Or for example, had the asthmatic and health-obsessed Feng Xin seen him buy a pack of cigars, he would have slapped it away from his hand. Partly the reason why he took up that habit again, Mu Qing thinks, as a way of separating himself from Feng Xin — of course, he failed.
“You're working here now, huh?”, Feng Xin began the conversation again.
“I asked to be transferred.”, Mu Qing responds. He wished not to find Feng Xin by accident, and luckily for him his boss owned another convenience store a few kilometres away.
“Oh…”, Feng Xin murmurs. “Are… are you free right now? Can we talk?”
Mu Qing could have said no, but there’s a hand that’s extending in front of his eyes, asking him to help him up. And to be honest, he cannot say no to Feng Xin. Much less ignore how much he has missed his senseless chitchat, his annoyingly loud laugh, the way his eyes light up with illusion every time he hears Mu Qing talk… he had been there in so many ways.
He doesn’t regret breaking up. He regrets not having noticed the magic in small things. He regrets not telling Feng Xin how much he loved him and valued his presence. He regrets not stopping once to think that maybe, just maybe, they could have talked things out.
So he says yes.
And suddenly he’s walking in silence by Feng Xin’s side, a little bit closer than anyone else on the street, yet farther than usual. He follows his steps to the apartment they once shared — Mu Qing knows that way like the back of his hand. He can feel their knuckles brushing lightly with every step they make. Probably inertia, he reckons, and lets it be that way. It’s fine. It will be fine.
And silence feels… incredibly fine this time.
It’s almost as if they had just started seeing each other for the first time. Like he doesn’t know his name, like he hasn’t seen Feng Xin naked before, like he doesn’t know what makes him cry and keeps him awake at night. Like he doesn’t know what type of jokes are the ones to make him grab his stomach as he laughs hysterically. Like he doesn’t know what type of news he avoids reading in the morning, when he grabs his mug and adds two spoonfuls of sugar into his tea, because ’it’ll ruin his day’. Or how he enthusiastically waits for the night to come and water the three succulents that Mu Qing once gave him a little bit over three years ago, right when they started dating.
He doesn’t know if Feng Xin is already seeing someone else. Although a lot can happen in 256 days, Mu Qing is pretty sure he’s not. He has always been a man with a small social circle, and not really fond of going out to bars by himself. Always his friends, his family, and Mu Qing.
The apartment looks as if it’s been preserved for a museum. It looks just like the day Mu Qing left, even the blankets over the couch in which Feng Xin slept until he found somewhere to stay. He wonders if Feng Xin has still and all been able to sleep on the bed they once slept naked on. The bed in which they cried to sleep. In which they drunkenly hugged until they passed out, or simply watched those stupid romantic dramas that Feng Xin very much likes.
(Mu Qing would avoid it fervently, too)
He also keeps the same frames, with the same childhood pictures that they found when they were cleaning Mu Qing’s mother’s house after she passed away. Except the ones they took when they were together, those have been replaced with pictures of Feifei wearing a great variety of costumes. It makes him chuckle.
“I still have some of your favorite coffee in the cupboard. Would you like some?”
“I have to get up early tomorrow, a glass for water would be just fine.”, he doesn’t mention the fact that Feng Xin still saves that one pack of coffee that Xie Lian and Hua Cheng brought from one of their trips. Colombia. Feng Xin and him had also made plans to visit one day, when they had better jobs and could afford it
(He also still has some teabags of Feng Xin’s favorite tea storaged somewhere)
Feng Xin places the glass of water on the table and moves one of the chairs, inviting him to sit down. He never did that at the end of their relationship, but it was something that he used to do on their first dates. It’s comforting, at least.
The moment Mu Qing sits down, Feng Xin is already talking: “So…”, he starts. “How have you been?”
Mu Qing could answer with the truth. That he is actually doing fine whenever he doesn’t think about him, whenever he is not remembering what they had and what they lost. That he tries his best to go on. But he chooses a simpler answer: “Fine, and you?”
Feng Xin hesitates for a bit. “I’m fine too.”
Although Mu Qing is happy to hear that, he was expecting something else from him. Or maybe he has watched many movies lately, and he really thought Feng Xin would pour his heart out right there. He never understood where that toxic side of him came from — why he deep inside he wanted Feng Xin to miss him, to call him, to beg on his knees for him to come back.
But another part of him rejoices in the idea that he found peace too. That he had time to heal, to grow. Mu Qing matured so much during those last months. He learned so many things about himself that he had forgotten, he had time to reconnect with old friends, with new people, new opportunities.
“Are you seeing—?”
“No.”, Mu Qing cuts off right before Feng Xin can finish that question. “What about you?”
“Me neither.”, Feng Xin responds quickly. “I have not had sex since you—”
“Too much information.”, Mu Qing laughs.
And Feng Xin laughs too. And it all suddenly seems like an orchestra that makes the prettiest musical pieces come to life.
Until all of a sudden he stops. And Mu Qing knows him too well not to know that Feng Xin is about to say something important. It’s always been this way, isn’t it?
“I missed you.”, he starts. “I missed you, and I’m hurt.”
Mu Qing could respond, but he nods lightly and encourages him to keep talking.
“I tried to reach out many times, only to find out you had blocked me on social media. I tried to pass by your job, only to find out you didn’t work there anymore.”, Feng Xin continues, “And all this time I wondered what I could have done better. Up until the moment you left I thought you were playing a very bad joke on me, why didn’t I have a say in this? Why didn’t you tell me what was wrong, before considering we went on separate ways?”
“I told you!”, Mu Qing retorts, “Many times I tried to let you know how uncomfortable I felt sometimes. How lonely and undesireable I started feeling.”
“You tried, but you didn’t! You didn’t and you left me crying by myself when you had already stopped loving me. I haven’t been able to sleep on the bed. Goddamit, I haven’t been able to change the set of sheets! Feifei sleeps there, they probably still smell like you.”
And it’s probably why she reacted so blissfully after seeing him, Mu Qing concludes. It’s not a nice conversation, much less a conversation that he was planning on having so soon, but still something they needed.
“It wasn’t easy for me either. And I never, ever, stopped loving you.”
Of course he doesn’t want to compare their two situations. When he lifts his gaze, he sees that Feng Xin is not mad. He doesn’t lie when he says he’s hurt, he never lies.
“I hate that you never gave me the option to redeem myself.”, Feng Xin bites back.
“I see now.”, Mu Qing says. What else was he supposed to say? That he doesn’t think anything Feng Xin could have said or done would have solved the problems going on? That he now sees how fast he jumped to conclusions, and it should have been something they both talked out? “I’m sorry.”
Feng Xin sighs heavily. He lets his head fall on the table and looks away. His eyes look like a mirror, full of tears that Mu Qing knows he can’t spill. He never cries for real, he lets them out when watching a movie, or a show. So bottled up, that it’s probably the reason why he can’t stop when he does cry.
“Feng Xin, I never blamed you for anything. I was tired of fighting, I was tired of following the stupid routine we had. I was tired of not knowing who the fuck I was anymore.”
“You could have told me. You could have asked me to try something else.”, he murmurs. Softly. Almost like a whisper.
“I didn’t want you to change!”
“It’s not changing, it was letting me know that you were unhappy. I swear I could have tried everything to change that. That, not me. But you didn’t gave me the option, you thought of me as unable to do so. And I missed you, I loved you, I still do — and I would still try everything possible for you to be happy.”
Mu Qing feels the tension inside of him loosen a little bit. Right there, he just wants to hold him again to sleep, he wants to whisper in his ear how much he’s missed him too. He wants to kiss him until he understands that he loves him too much, that he broke things off before he started to hate him. It was always what was on his mind when he took that decision.
And right there, he swears he could try again.
He could try — he could risk everything he’s won just to regain the the small things he has lost. Although this time could be different. They will be different, but still the same.
“One day I promised you life would make us meet again, didn’t I?”, he starts. Feng Xin’s eyes are suddenly pinned on his. Illusion. Mu Qing can read him so well… “Maybe… if you want. If you’re ready. If you forgive me…”
Feng Xin reaches out for one of Mu Qing’s hands, and tenderly lets himself fall inside of his palm. He makes Mu Qing cradle his face and closes his eyes.
Silence again.
The type of silence that makes Mu Qing’s heart throb with excitement.
The best type of silence.
“Slowly. Carefully.”, Feng Xin vows. “Are you ready? Do you forgive me?”
Mu Qing smiles. “We can try.”, he says, and brings his face closer to kiss him tenderly, to hold him tenderly for the first time in months.
They can try.
After texting his cousin that he will spend the night elsewhere, Mu Qing quietly changes the set of sheets on their bed, while Feng Xin takes a bath and gets ready to sleep. When he comes back and lets his body fall on Mu Qing’s chest, he falls asleep almost instantly, but not before mumbling a soft and tired: “Feifei sleeps on your side, I hope it doesn’t bother you.”
He won’t mention that he’s unsure about having Feifei sleep on his lap tonight, but Feng Xin doesn’t mention that the smell of tobacco in his hair and clothes is making him cough either. Through a silent pact they’ve decided they won’t bring out sensitive topics tonight; and let the accumulated exhaustion to finally start to show its consequences. Mu Qing knows who they are, and he knows they are both leaving it for tomorrow. But they will see tomorrow.
In the end… it’s who they are. Yet, they can try.